


Apertum Cor Eius (His Open Heart)

by InterestingCorpse



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Dean, Cursed Castiel, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mentions of homophobia, POV Multiple, Season/Series 05, Top Castiel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-02-11 23:02:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2086443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InterestingCorpse/pseuds/InterestingCorpse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is cursed by a pagan demi-god to keep telling Dean how he feels and he's terrified Dean will hate him for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

The first time it happened, Dean was bent over, doing something apparently very important, that also required a lot of skill, to his car. Castiel had tried to keep up with the animated yet relaxed way Dean was speaking as he used oddly shaped pieces of metal to loosen or tighten or bang on other parts of metal (Cas understood how an engine worked, of course; he had been around when they were first invented, but he had no idea how to do anything with one and certainly could not begin to fathom how to fix one) because it was nice to see Dean being enthusiastic about something that posed no threat to him. The deeper he got into the engine, the more his shoulders relaxed and the tension leftover from their close call with some pagan demigod, which had almost killed Sam, slowly faded away. Castiel had sensed Dean’s distress and flown to him, just in time to shield Dean, and subsequently heal Sam, from the evil creature’s foul magic, put to an end by the swing of Dean’s blade.

   During the fight, Dean’s car had become damaged and so Dean had called Bobby who had obligingly towed the car back to his home. Sam was resting, mostly because Dean would not let him do anything else, and Bobby was working on some research for Rufus – something about an Ekek that had turned up in Kentucky – so Dean and Castiel were alone outside the work garage, Cas sat on a bench, Dean, elbows deep in the guts of his beloved car, chatting happily about pistons and plugs and something called a crankshaft.

   So, Castiel was trying very hard to concentrate on what Dean was explaining to him but his attention kept wandering to how the setting sun lit up the spiky blonde tufts on Dean’s head, how his eyes gleamed, the curve of his rear as he bent to…

   ‘You have a very shapely ass, Dean.’

   There was a loud clang followed by ‘Motherless shitfuck, owww!’ as Dean rubbed where his skull connected with the Impala’s hood then Dean was staring at Cas, eyes wide, jaw dropped, mouth wide open, looking incredibly alarmed. Cas would have found that look comical if he hadn't been fairly sure that he was mimicking it.

   ‘Cas, did you say… What did you say?!’ Dean asked, his voice almost squeaky and high pitched. Cas dropped his gaze to the ground and began fumbling his fingers together, trying to figure out what just happened. Why did he say that? Out loud! To Dean! It was one thing to occasionally… observe Dean. After all, Dean is a beautiful creation of God, surely the most divine and brightest…

   ‘Cas?! What are you talking about? I’m not divine or bright and what do you mean ‘observe’?!’ Dean’s voice is getting even higher in pitch and Castiel finds that he has his hands clamped over his mouth, trying to stop the private ramblings that his accidental declaration had set free. 

   ‘I do not, I am sorry Dean, I… must leave.’

   ‘No, wait, Cas, what’s-Dammit, Cas! Come back here!’ Castiel ignores Dean’s voice and flies away, not stopping until he reaches the jungles of Peru and lands on a snake that bites him in the leg.

   The second time it happens is three weeks later. Castiel has avoided Dean entirely, instead choosing to relay information about Lucifer, the horsemen, other apocalypse related matters to Sam or Bobby then flying away before they can ask questions or when Dean walks into the room. However, this time he cannot simply leave as the three hunters need information about Lucifer; more than he knows but he is trying to help.

   ‘I am not sure what I could volunteer in order to help you but I will share whatever I can,’ Cas told Sam who solemnly nodded back at him, heavy shadows under his eyes that Bobby and Dean also shared. Castiel is not surprised that the hunters are so tired; he has felt spread thin for quite some time also. Bobby and Sam ask their questions and write notes at random intervals, Dean merely stands with his back against the wall, arms crossed, brow knitted together. The hostility pouring off him is unmistakable and Cas finds it hard to keep his voice level as he speaks; a terrible spiritual pain manifesting as an ache behind his ribs because of Dean’s obvious disgust with him. He still did not know what had compelled him to say what he said before but Cas willed fiery damnation on whatever the cause lest he embarrass himself again and, more importantly, push Dean further away. His very human feelings and longings for Dean were irrelevant, idiotic daydreams where Cas escaped from the desperate nature of their situation and, instead, let his mind fill with images of the soft plump skin of Dean’s lips and how they would feel pressed against his... 

   ‘I often think of your lips, Dean.’

   Cas had already disappeared before Bobby had a chance to ask ‘What in the hell did he just say?’

   The third and fourth times, Cas could not simply run away as the two brothers and himself were set upon by five demons not five seconds after Cas announced ‘Dean, I have often wondered what it would be like to kiss your neck.’

   Cas could tell Dean was thrown and 'off his game’ because of Castiel’s words so Cas made sure to keep him covered even more than usual as he burnt through three of the demons with his grace, Sam making short work of the last two with Ruby’s knife, leaving the humans panting but safe as all three of them bundled into Dean’s car and hastily exited the area before more demons could arrive.

   Once all three had come down from their post-battle high, Cas became aware of a change in the atmosphere of the car. Sam was resolutely staring out of the window, perfectly still but for the occasional twitch of his lips or fingers. Castiel thought Sam might be trying not to laugh which made Cas feel embarrassed and small. Dean was sitting with his back straight and stiff, tension clear in the width of his shoulders, the muscles bunched and tight. He had freckles on them, Cas remembered, dusted lightly across his shoulders and down his back. Castiel wondered what it would be to like to kiss every single freckle on Dean’s body, saving the most intimate ones until last…

  ‘Dean, I like that freckle on your left inner thigh.’

   The car swerved on the empty road and Sam made a noise that was half moose-honk and half strangled-duck before slapping one of his huge hands over his face and staring at the floor.

   ‘Dammit, Cas! That’s enough!’ Dean growled, carelessly skidding the car to a halt at the side of the road and jumping out, waving his arms around in a way that Castiel thought meant to follow him outside. For one second, Cas thought about fleeing again and just staying away until he could find out what was causing his secrets to leap out of his chest, but he knew he was being cowardly. Perhaps he was prideful but he did not ever want to think of himself that way, let alone have Dean believe that too so he flew out of the car and landed next to Dean. Who jumped.

   ‘Goddammit Cas! Are you trying to kill me?!’ Dean shouted at Cas, gesticulating wildly while Cas stood stock still, shamefaced, in front of him. ‘What the hell is going on? Why do you keep… Did you really… What’s _happening?_ ’

   Cas kept his eyes on the floor, bowing his head, his human heart fluttering wildly, a sensation he was sure he would never get used to. ‘I am sorry, Dean. I think there must be some sort of magic at work. I did not mean to… That is to say I would never… Not that I did not...’

   Castiel felt a warm hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him, then Dean ducked his head to catch Castiel’s gaze, his brow furrowed, the hint of _something_ in his forest green eyes, a questioning, a doubt that spread to his mouth as the men faced each other. Castiel wanted to ask what was wrong, wanted to know what Dean was thinking, why there was flash of sadness in his gaze, why he pressed his lips together before shaking his head, as if to clear it. And why, after looking at the ground and running the pad of his thumb across his bottom lip, Dean brought the shutters down across his face and flashed Cas his biggest, toothiest fake smile; the one that always made Castiel ache for his overburdened charge, his most favoured human.

   ‘Oh man, of course, I should’ve guessed. I’m such an idiot! You’d never… I mean I’d…well, anyway, ok. Let’s head to Bobby’s and find out what he knows. You wouldn’t believe how many times Sam’s got himself cursed.’ Dean said very quickly with a false laugh before lightly bumping his fist against Castiel’s arm. That simple touch felt like sparks lighting up his skin and he found himself sucking his bottom lip into his mouth. Dean followed the movement with his eyes, looking oddly dazed for a moment. Then he trailed his fingers down the length of Castiel's arm, his eyes dark and intense, like he was unaware of the world around him as his fingers slipped down the fabric of Jimmy's coat. When the pads of Dean's fingertips met the skin on Castiel's hand, a helpless gasp fell from his lips as the skin-on-skin contact made Castiel's world tilt, warmth pooling low in his body. 

   Startled out of... whatever had just occurred between them, Dean snatched his hand back, clenching it into a fist as red bloomed across his face, highlighting the beautiful shape of his jaw, the pinkness of his lips. Dean stepped back and Cas just managed to quell the sad little whine that formed inside his throat as Dean once again pulled his walls up around him, his hand slowly uncurling, his fingers long and strong, perfect for feeling, for touching, for…

   ‘I want to lick your fingers, Dean.’

   That was the fifth time it happened.


	2. Chapter Two

The sixth, seventh and eighth times it happened, Castiel began to consider briefly removing his tongue or vocal box, just to end the humiliation of his confessions. After Dean yanked his hand back and repeated the need to travel to Bobby's, he turned, without looking Cas in the eye again, and climbed back into the Impala, Cas awkwardly following suit. Being inside the car was even worse. Dean seemed… different in some way, much more distant and stiff backed as he drove, Cas’s latest confession ringing in their ears. What ensued was the most awkward experience of Castiel’s long life. Dean insisted that he remain in the car with them and go the slow way to Bobby’s, stating in a monotone voice 'Bobby will solve this. We should all stay together' and, after some more snickering from Sam which Dean silenced with a rather savage punch to Sam’s arm, the tall hunter also stated that Castiel should remain with them until this thing, whatever it was, went away or was reversed. Luckily, they were only a four hour drive away from the salvage yard. Unluckily, Castiel’s condition seemed to be worsening with the prolonged proximity to Dean. As they journeyed, Castiel could not help noticing the way the moonlight would glaze across Dean’s lips, highlighting their softness, the sheen left behind whenever he slicked them with his tongue, how it might feel to…

   ‘I would like to kiss your lips, Dean.’

   Cas slapped a hand over his mouth and hunched back into the shadows of the backseat, trying to ignore Sam’s trembling form as the younger brother tried, and failed, to control his laughter. Cas saw Dean’s knuckles briefly turn white as he clenched his fists around the steering wheel before relaxing them again. He did not say anything. Cas worried his bottom lip between his teeth and tried to calm the churning pit inside his stomach as the three of them drove on in silence.

   Then it got worse.

   Pulling into the parking lot of some place that smelled of grease and salt, Dean switched off the engine and turned to Sam, his face sombre and shoulders hunched.

   ‘What do you want?’ Dean’s tone was lifeless and left Cas feeling cold and guilty; ashamed that he was upsetting the human in this ridiculous way, aching to set it right, terrified that Dean would turn him away. 

   ‘Dean, come on, you gotta admit it’s really funny,’ Sam said, smiling encouragingly at his brother even as Dean looked away and repeated his question. Sam sighed and slumped in his seat, still managing to look like a contrite puppy despite his large frame, and gave Dean his order.

   ‘Cas, need anything?’ Dean asked him, staring off across the parking lot towards the garish lights of the all night diner. The ugliness of their surroundings only served to highlight Dean’s beauty, the firmness in his body, the graceful way he moved. Cas could imagine only too well what it would be like to pin Dean against the wall and…

   ‘I think I would like to hold you down, Dean.’

   Sam’s eyes bugged out of his head a little as he swallowed his laughter, thumping his forehead on the passenger window as he turned his head, a quiet ‘Ow,’ following the thud.

   Castiel tried to recover the situation by saying, a touch too loudly, ‘No, thank you, Dean, I do not require any sustenance.’ Dean nodded, looking even more angry and embarrassed than before, and Cas couldn’t help but blurt out, ‘I am very sorry, Dean, that this is happening, I do not wish-‘

   ‘Save it, Cas, s’not your fault. Let’s just get to Bobby’s and get rid of this thing,’ and with that he shut the door and walked away. Cas felt a lot like he had just been kicked while he was down, a sad sigh falling from his lips.

   ‘Hey, Cas, sorry about before, you know. I know this must be embarrassing for you.’ Sam said, turning in his seat. ‘It is funny, in a ridiculous way, but I didn’t mean...‘

   ‘I understand. I certainly feel ridiculous,’ Cas said, attempting a smile for Sam’s benefit. ‘I am mostly concerned about how this is going to damage my relationship with Dean. He seems… upset.’

   ‘He’s just stressed, Cas, we all are. It’s not your fault. You don’t mean to keep saying these things so how can anyone be mad at you. We’ll work it all out.’

   Cas nodded and they waited in companionable silence for Dean to return with the food. Once the men had eaten, they resumed their journey, spending most of it in disquieting silence. Castiel found that he had never been so happy to see Bobby Singer’s old run-down house before. Dean had parked up and the three of them exited the car, Cas desperately grateful to escape the awkward metal confines of the Impala. Bobby sat in his chair in the doorway, arms crossed, a fond look on his weather-beaten face as the three men approached the doorway.

   ‘So, what did you boys screw up this time?’ Bobby asked as he wheeled back to let them in, flicking each of them with some holy water as they entered the house, the smell of Old Spice, whiskey and musty old papers wrapping around them like a blanket. Even Castiel had become comforted by the familiar place and felt himself relaxing a little as Bobby made his way behind his desk. Dean sat on the grungy couch, Sam sat backwards in a chair and Cas leaned in the doorway, careful to keep his distance from Dean who was slumped, his muscular bow legs listing to each side as he…

   ‘I should like to wrap your legs around me, Dean.’

   Sam looked from Bobby to Cas then to Dean, who was staring at the floor and fiddling with his folding knife, then back at Bobby. Castiel lowered his eyes to the floor and used a little grace to cover the obvious warmth in his cheeks.

   Bobby sighed and opened up a bottle of whiskey.

                                                   *     *     *

‘So when exactly did this start happening?’

   Castiel was sitting across from Bobby, hunched uncomfortably in a chair as Bobby appraised him with his knowing eye. After his latest confession, Bobby had sent the hunters out on an errand; a run of the mill salt and burn that would keep them briefly occupied so the older man could speak privately with Cas and see if they could cure the problem before Dean returned. Castiel balked at first, scared to reveal so much of himself and his feelings. But, knowing that being truthful was the best way to find a cure, Cas resigned himself to it, hoping that if he was honest with Bobby, the seasoned hunter could help stop whatever was happening. So, having no choice but to tell Bobby the truth, Castiel squared his shoulders and prepared to have a frank discussion about his love for Dean. Well, not too frank. He wasn't going to tell Bobby about the lustful thoughts that simmered in the back of his mind, flaring to the fore and making the flesh between his legs pulse and harden. Wonderful yet alien feelings that came with images of sweat-soaked skin, lips and teeth, gasping breaths and pretty moans. Absorbing daydreams where Dean welcomed his touch and returned his feelings, where their bodies would writhe together in ecstasy. No, he would never share those thoughts with anyone. As intoxicating and addictive as these fantasies have become, Castiel knew it was wrong to feel this way. Dean was his charge and was to be protected, not fantasised about. 

   Bobby took a sip of his whiskey, the amber coloured liquid clinging a little to Bobby’s facial hair before being licked away. Castiel really, really did not want to tell Bobby, to say anything about his feelings out loud, knowing that hearing the thoughts being vocalised would shame him even more with their absurdity, but they had to get this taken care of so their focus could be back on the apocalypse. So, Cas took an arbitrary deep breath and began.    

   ‘I believe I became afflicted while intervening on a hunt. I felt that Dean was very distressed so I came to him,’ Castiel said quietly, his fingers twitching together in that unnerving human way, ‘and I distracted the false god Dean and Sam were fighting and Dean ended it. It began after that.’

   Bobby nodded, his eyes guarded but not unkind, a familiarity there that Castiel had grown to enjoy, liking how the older hunter never made a point of excluding Castiel, despite his understandable mistrust of all things supernatural. Bobby ran a hand over his beard, the old chewed pencil between his fingers scraping a little as he processed Castiel’s words.

   ‘I… my thoughts, my feelings…I…’ Cas stumbled over his words, not sure how to phrase things in any other way than ‘I am in love with Dean Winchester and I think he hates me for it.’ No, Castiel could not say that aloud; if he did, he feared that he would crumble into nothingness.

   As Cas stared down at his linked fingers, trying to get himself to say the words, Bobby mercifully began to speak. ‘Ok, so it would seem you’ve been cursed by somethin’. I figured you’d be immune to those sort of nasties but I spose, well, your grace and all…’ Bobby politely tailed off and Castiel nodded his agreement and his gratitude; his ailing grace was not a subject he much liked to dwell upon.

   ‘Yes, I believe that is what has happened,’ Castiel said, finally deciding to take a sip of the glass of whiskey that Bobby had poured out for him, having seen Dean do the same before being confronted with bad news. Bobby raised his glass and also took a large sip before leaning forward onto his elbows, the wheels of his chair squeaking a little as he moved. Castiel was both comforted and frightened by the look on Bobby’s face as the hunter appeared to deliberate over his next words.

   ‘Cas, I know that… Dean is your charge, your mission,’ Castiel nodded as Bobby spoke, ‘and I… well… hell, I aint blind, boy. The way you look at him, the way he looks at you. I mean… it’s pretty clear there’s somethin’ between y’all.’

   For a second he didn't respond, a little too confused by what he just heard. The way Dean looks at...? Something between? Then his head flew up, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief.

   ‘Bobby, Dean doesn’t, he could never… with me. It’s ridiculous to even consider.’ Cas shook his head, vehemently against the rising hope in his chest, not daring to hope, not wanting to be that foolish even as Bobby leaned across his desk and gently placed a hand on Castiel’s arm.

   ‘Cas, I think you and Dean, well, you boys need to talk.’  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up. The next one won't take nearly as long.


	3. Chapter Three

The salt and burn was text book which Dean heartily resented. Not that he wanted to risk getting Sam killed but, damn, he sure could’ve used a longer break than that. Now he’s driving back to Bobby’s, Sam in the passenger seat, trying not to obviously crawl along but being a lot lighter on the accelerator than usual. Sam was going through their combined collection of phones, lining them up in charging order ready for when they got back.

   ‘No missed calls from Bobby,’ Sam said as he looked at the different screens before glancing over at Dean, ‘I’m guessing they haven’t found a cure yet.’

   Dean kept his eyes on the road and tried not to clench his jaw, which didn’t work, his teeth smacking together with an audible snap that made Sam wince. Dean scowled. If Sam even _dared_ to try to make him talk about this…

   ‘So, Dean, can I ask you something?’

   Dammit.

   ‘I’m fine, Sam, let’s just get back to Bobby’s,’ Dean grumbled, trying to stall his brother from asking questions he really didn’t want to answer. Of course it didn’t work. It never fucking works. Stupid brother.

   ‘Dean… Look, I know this must be weird for you; Cas is pretty much your best friend so for him to be saying this stuff and what with you and your whole macho… Anyway, I just think that-‘

   Dean felt his eyebrows draw together when Sam said ‘macho’ and couldn’t help but poke the bear.

   ‘Macho what? My macho what, Sam?’

   Sam pursed his lips a little then sighed and sank into his seat, sure signs that something was coming that Dean wasn’t gonna like.

   ‘I didn’t mean to say that, exactly, it’s just… Well, you’ve always been pretty homophobic, Dean, so I get that-‘

   ‘I’m not homophobic!’ Dean shouted, far too loudly, with a slight crack in his voice that made his traitorous cheeks bloom, his face warming as he stared at the road disappearing beneath him. _Shit, Sam, please don’t make me talk about this, you don’t understand, I can’tIcan’tIcan’t…_

   ‘Dean, come on, man, you’ve always freaked out whenever anyone thought we were a gay couple, you hate it when the angels or demons accuse anything between you and Cas-‘

   ‘That’s because there isn’t anything, Sam!’ Dean shouted again, his fear toppling over into more manageable anger, desperate to get out of this conversation, putting pedal to the metal so they could get to Bobby’s where Dean would then drop Sam off and drive far away until all this shit stopped happening.

   Sam was frowning, that whirl of skin between his eyebrows sharp and defined as he looked at Dean; the face he used to analyse when presented with new and surprising information. Dean could feel his cheeks getting warmer and warmer as he tried to concentrate on not letting his sweaty hands slip on the wheel as they barrelled towards Sioux Falls; Dean’s mind going a mile a minute.

   This, _this_ is one of the things he’d been so afraid of when it became clear that Cas wasn’t meaning to say the things he’d been coming out with. That first time, when Cas… said what he said, Dean thought his heart would explode. It took even him by surprise, the force of emotion that lit him up inside; _that_ , he’d never expected that. Dean knew, had known for a while, that he was attracted to Cas. It was stupid and confusing and pointless to consider so he’d filed it away under ‘Stuff we don’t think about’, along with all his other past attractions to men, and locked the door. Why think about something so ridiculous? Whether Dean was bi or whatever wasn’t important next to everything he had to do, all the people he had to save, his stupid big-mouthed brother to protect. It wasn’t like he never got laid; he screwed a barmaid here, a waitress there, not looking back, not caring. Relationships were for other people so why even worry?

   But Cas… Dean wasn’t sure if it was prolonged exposure to the angel or what but his ‘Wow, what a fucking badass… Nice ass, too’ became ‘God, I miss Cas. I hope I get to see him soon’ and was becoming ‘I don’t think I can go on if I don’t get to see Cas, just for a little while, just to have him close. I need him’ and that was completely screwing with his head. He could not fall in love with a goddamn male angel (or angel in a male vessel, whatever) now or ever, apocalypse or not. It was stupid, insane, needy and pathetic and yet… When Cas had said… what he said, Dean’s heart felt like it was going to leap out of his chest and hope, stupid dangerous hope, made his skin tingle and his breath stutter and his brain was already most of the way to Kiss-Him-Land when Cas disappeared, leaving Dean shouting crap at the sky and blushing so hard he thought his head was gonna pop off.

   And then Cas was gone, for what felt like way too long, avoiding Dean so obviously that Dean couldn’t help the splintering feeling of disappointment and heartbreak whenever Sam or Bobby mentioned that Cas had come by. Then, it was weeks later, Lucifer was mobilising and Cas was around more, because he had to be, because they needed him to fight this stupid, scary war and Dean just shut down. Total business mode; ignore the things Cas says about him, ignore the way it makes him feel, ignore the curious glances from Bobby and the understandable-but-aggravating-as-shit snickering from Sasquatch and just get the job done. It didn’t work like that, of course, it never did, and Dean found he hadn’t been handling it, not really, not enough that his brother was fooled. Dean just had to hope that Cas was fooled; that this thing, this curse, didn’t out him to the angel and Bobby and his brother and ruin the crappy bit of life he was just about clinging onto.

   ‘Please, Sam,’ Dean said quietly, eyes blurring a little as his brother continued to stare at him, mouth open a small bit, deductions being made behind those clever eyes, ‘Please just drop it.’

   Sam’s eyebrows rose at the desperate note in Dean’s voice and the implications of his words and, to Dean’s endless gratitude, his brother nodded and dropped the subject. The rest of the journey was made in silence.


	4. Chapter Four

Dean half-heartedly feigned exhaustion as soon as he knew for sure that Cas was still at Bobby’s and that they hadn’t fixed the thing with the… the problem.

   ‘Boys, y’all still in one piece?’ Bobby called out as Sam walked into Bobby’s living room, Dean walking, not hiding, definitely not hiding, behind his gigantor brother. Cas was perched awkwardly on a chair in front of Bobby’s desk while Bobby sat behind it, shoulder deep in musty books and yellowing papers, the smell of whiskey in the air.

   Sam flomped himself down onto Bobby’s decrepit couch and Dean just leaned in the doorway, trying to look at Cas, and trying not to look at him. He didn’t want to risk somehow tripping this thing off again and having Cas… he just didn’t need to hear any more of it.

Dean realised he was digging the palms of his hands into his eyes when he heard Bobby calling his name, sharply, like he’d been trying to get his attention. He looked up too quickly, looking at Bobby with wide eyes as everyone stared at him.

   ‘You ok there, son? I gotta say, you look like hell.’ The older man’s voice was teasing but gentle, his eyes comprehending, without judgement, even as Dean looked away and started rubbing the back of his neck, trying to seem nonchalant as he said ‘Yeah, we’re fine, it was fine. I just, uh need a shower and some sleep, you know. Long drive, round trip an’all.’,

   Cas replied with ‘You’re beautiful when you’re wet, Dean’.

   There was a second of hideous awkwardness before Dean felt that familiar rush of air as Cas swiftly, and thankfully, exited the building leaving Sam and Bobby side-eyeing Dean as he felt his face flush with humiliation and… other things that he didn’t want to think about, that he _shouldn’t_ be thinking about.

   ‘I’m goin’ to bed,’ he ground out before stomping up the stairs to the spare room and slamming the door shut behind him, shutting out all thoughts of blue-eyed angels who say stupid things that he cant handle.

                                             

                                                    *      *      *

   _‘…when you’re wet, Dean.’_

   Dean sat bolt upright, sweating and shaking, his breath coming in pants as images from his disturbingly vivid dream replayed in his mind, each one sending a pulsing ache low in his body, a desperate want that he couldn’t control.

   Dean lying on his front, naked; Cas behind him, running his fingers across the skin on Dean’s ass, finger tips slipping closer and closer to where Dean desperately wanted to be touch, his cock achingly hard and leaking as he mindlessly thrust against the mattress.

   Cas straddling his lap, Dean’s hands wrapped around Cas’s hips, pulling him closer as Cas kissed him, slow and languid but deeply, like he was exploring everything Dean’s mouth could offer. Dean could feel the whimpering noises in the back of his throat as Cas bit at his lower lip, sucking on it sinfully before grinding himself against Dean.

   Dean shuddering as Cas kissed his neck, dragging those beautiful pink lips against his skin and murmuring things in Enochian that sounded like filthy promises and reverent proclamations.

   Cas biting the meat of Dean’s inner thighs, sucking Dean’s fingers into his mouth, effortlessly holding Dean down on the bed with one hand, his beautiful blue eyes heavy-lidded with passion as he wrapped Dean’s legs around his waist and rubbed his thumb over the damp head of Dean’s cock. The feel as Cas’s cock, hard and hot, slid inside him, Dean crying out Cas’s name as the angel kissed him, filled him.

   Dean was rock hard inside his boxers, so close to coming that the barest brush of fabric against him made him gasp and rock his hips in want, even as shame washed over him at his patheticness; all but creaming his pants over some stupid dream, some stupid desire that would never be realised, over someone so far beyond what Dean deserved that even thinking about it was ridiculous, let alone fantasising, let alone…

   ‘Hello Dean.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for my lameness and how short this chapter is. I'm working on it ;)


	5. Chapter Five

‘Hello Dean’ came a familiar gravelly voice from the darkest corner of the room, causing Dean to make a very undignified sound as he scrambled to cover himself with the blankets, like some blushing virgin, scrabbling to preserve their dignity.

‘Cas, what the fuck are you doing?! You’re watching me sleep again?!’ Dean yelled angrily as Cas moved into view, more comfortable with being angry than embarrassed.

 Dean snatched the blankets closer and wrapped one around himself, silently hoping that angel’s couldn’t smell boners and hormones and stuff because, holy fuck, he was hard.

   ‘Dean, you were shouting my name in your sleep. I was concerned.’ Cas stood in the corner, wrinkled trench coat and stupid backwards tie all rumpled from… whatever Cas had been up to. Whatever, he didn’t need to know the contents of Dean’s dream.

   ‘It was just a fucking nightmare, Cas! I don’t need you hovering over my fucking shoulder like some sort of fucking guardian angel!’ Dean snapped, lashing out to hide his shame.

   A hurt look ghosted over Castiel’s face, sadness in his beautiful blue eyes for a moment before his eyebrows drew together and he scowled at Dean.

 ‘I would never try to be your guardian angel, Dean! That would be like offering to feed one’s vessel to ungrateful sharks!’

   Dean scoffed indignantly, flinging the blankets off, so ready to fight instead of think that he forgets the happy-dream-situation in his pants and jumps out of bed and stomps towards Cas, his socks catching on splinters from the rough floor.

   ‘Then why the fuck are you here, huh? You got more weird shit to say to me?’ Dean snarled in Cas’s face, ignoring how Cas’s righteous expression fell into one of shame, his eyes wide and down cast as Dean yelled at him. ‘Why won’t you just stay the fuck away until this… whatever the fuck it is, goes away? Jesus, this is the last thing I need!’

                                           *     *     *

   ‘I…’ Cas tried to speak, to defend himself, as Dean stood right in front of him, jaw squared, his golden green eyes bright with anger. ‘I…’

   ‘You you what?’

   ‘I don’t know, Dean!’ Cas shouted back at the infuriating human, that ache in his chest sharper as Dean made it quite clear just how he felt about Cas, that he did not want him in his life at all, let alone…

   Cas had heard Dean calling out his name, had felt a longing that was a lot more desperate and very different to what Cas usually sensed from him. Cas hadn’t understood what was happening at first when he flew into Bobby’s old spare bedroom and found Dean fast asleep, whimpering his name and squirming on the bed. At first he thought that perhaps the hunter was having a nightmare or that he was sick or injured in some way so Cas rushed towards the bed to see what aid he could provide. However, once he drew closer and sniffed the saturated air around Dean’s form, then he caught the smell of human arousal and realised what was happening. Dean was having a sexual dream about him; it was Dean’s imagination that had chosen Cas to… do whatever it was they were doing, to draw those strangely vulnerable gasps from Dean’s lips as he writhed against the squeaking mattress. Cas briefly, very briefly, thought about taking a peek inside Dean’s mind then mentally chastised himself for such a disrespectful thought; he knew full well that Dean would be absolutely furious with him and, really, he’d had his fill of bad feelings and awkwardness. Perhaps, if Dean was dreaming of him this way, it meant that Cas could maybe dare to hope for Dean's affection and the last thing he wanted to do was jeopardise that. So, with a wonderful and terrifying ache in his body, Cas turned to leave.

   ‘Cas!’ Dean shouted as he bolted upright in bed, his skin damp with sweat, the sudden movement stirring the smell of his erection strong in the air, eliciting lustful feelings within Castiel’s vessel; within his true form too, his black wings flaring and rustling a little, stretching way beyond the confines of this small, musty room, catching what little light there was from the half-moon shining through the window to show off the iridescent blue shine to his feathers, signalling to Dean that he was ready to mate, even though Dean couldn’t see them, his natural urges taking over as his excitement grew.

   Then Dean was scrambling to cover himself and shouting at Cas and the angel felt his stomach sink as he realised his mistake, the idiocy of such an assumption and his embarrassment at making a fool of himself had his own ire raising, directed at himself as well as Dean, who was now mockingly calling him a ‘guardian angel.’ Cas felt a sharp painful sensation in his stomach, like the slice of a blade or the tearing of a claw as Dean shouted then mumbled childish epithets and furiously yanked a shirt over his head. Cas felt the pain inside him twist into anger, outrage at being spoken to in such a way by the man who occupied his every hour, every second.

   Castiel’s rage bubbled over and he found himself shouting back at Dean, his own fists clenching as they stared each other in the eye, both men’s jaws clenching in anger. Then Dean was yelling at Cas, telling him how he didn’t want the angel here, his lip curling when he mentioned Castiel’s confessions, and Cas was shouting back even louder and everything was so muddled; these awful, violent feelings threatening to rip Cas apart from the inside. Then Dean yelled ‘Just go! Please, just go somewhere that’s away from me because I am sick of the fucking sight of you!’ and Cas felt the already tenuous thread of control he had over these spiralling emotions snap and he was shouting in Dean’s face ‘I was not the one who was having sexual dreams, Dean! I am not the one with an erection! So… so, screw you!’ before flying away, leaving Dean wordlessly opening and closing his mouth, shaking, humiliated and more than a little guilty for the hurt he’d seen in Castiel’s bright blue eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and the nice comments. You guys keep me going ;)


	6. Chapter Six

Sam really never needed to hear Castiel say the word ‘erection’ but especially not in the context of Dean having one. Bleurgh. He’d been half asleep on the couch, Bobby snoring away in his chair, the whiskey they’d shared still hanging in the air when suddenly there was yelling and thumps from above followed by more yelling. Bobby cracked open one eye then the other, looked up at the ceiling, rolled his eyes and went back to sleep.

   ‘Coupla idiots,’ Bobby had grumbled earlier that day, after Cas's swift disappearance and Dean's ensuing stomp upstairs, then poured out a drink for himself, gesturing to Sam with the bottle. Sam nodded, both at the offer and the sentiment, reaching out to take the glass and sip from it.

   ‘Yeah, it’s like watching a really slow, inevitable car crash,’ Sam agreed before taking a sip of his drink. Bobby snorted and threw back most of his glass. ‘Can I help with research?’

   Bobby nodded and handed him a musty smelling book, yellowed with aged, its leather binding cracked and brittle. Sam opened it and started to read.

   ‘I’m thinking that Ma’at, that Egyptian demi-god you fought, tried to unleash an ‘open heart’ curse. Basically, if you’re suffering ‘cause of unrequited love,’ Bobby raises his eyebrows at Sam, ‘whatever you’re thinking about the one you love comes outta your mouth. The more you’re rejected, the worse it gets until your heart literally breaks.’

   Sam groans and rubs his hands over his face.

   ‘Cas said it would’ve hit Dean but he shielded him and got hit instead. Now I’m thinking that, ‘cause Cas is an angel, he’s not been hit as hard as a human would be. But, that doesn’t mean he’s out of danger. And, this,’ Bobby handed him another book, this one not as old but worn and well read, ‘is the only cure I can find.’ He tapped on the page Sam was looking at then threw back the last of his whiskey.

   Sam’s eyes roved over the page until he found the significant part. He looked over at Bobby, who was helping himself to another drink, with an ‘oh shit’ expression on his face. Bobby nodded.

   ‘Yup, that’s the cure. Any chance bonehead upstairs might listen to reason?’ Bobby said, his eyes briefly flicking up to the ceiling then back at Sam.

   ‘I sure hope so.’

                                      *     *     *

   Sam managed a couple more hours of sleep, mostly out of necessity than anything else. After the argument between Dean and Cas was over, Sam had heard his brother grumbling and stomping about upstairs for a while but eventually he quieted down and Sam could sleep again.

   Just as Sam gets up and stretches, his joints cracking, fingers brushing the ceiling, Dean stomps into the room, looking like eight kinds of crap, making a beeline for the coffee maker. Bobby snorts and then blearily opens his eyes, probably alerted by the sounds of coffee being made. Dean doesn’t look round but he grabs three mugs and fills them up, dumping milk and sugar into Sam’s and leaving his and Bobby’s black. Sam wanders over and takes his coffee with thanks, grabbing Bobby’s and bringing it to him as he stretches, his joints cracking worse than Sam’s.

   Dean plonks himself down into a chair and sips his coffee, scowling at the table in front of him. Sam looks at Bobby who looks back at him and leans his head a little at Dean, indicating that Sam should have a word. Sam grimaces and tries to hide his sigh in his mug.

   ‘I’m gonna use the little boys room then head outside for a bit. Got someone coming by later to look at that old Caddy in the back.’ Bobby slurps his coffee then puts the mug down on his desk and wheels himself out of the room, leaving him alone with a very pissed off Dean. Sam steels himself for the barrage of crap he’s about to get slung his way and sits down opposite Dean.

   ‘I, ah, heard you and C-‘

   ‘Don’t start, Sam,’ Dean all but growls, not lifting his gaze as he swigs his coffee, his shoulders hunched and defensive. Sam suppresses another sigh but rolls his eyes because he knows Dean can’t see. He decides to try a different tactic.

   ‘Bobby and I were looking over the lore and found what looks like a cure for Cas’s… problem.’ Sam sips from the mug in his hand. Dean nods.

   ‘Ok. So go do it then,’ Dean says in a monotone voice that does not bode well for this conversation.

   ‘Um, well, we need your help,’ Sam says in as neutral a tone as he can manage. Dean’s shoulders hunch even more. ‘Because it’s kinda focused on you, we’ll need your blood.’

   Sam can practically hear the grumpy eye roll as Dean says ‘Awesome,’ and gulps down more coffee. Sam runs his hand through his hair before continuing.

   ‘That’s not all. You need to, um, you and Cas have to… kiss.’ Dean’s head shoots up so fast that Sam winces in sympathy for his neck. Dean stares at him. ‘With your blood on his lips.’

   Dean’s mouth hangs open, his eyes back lit with panic, as Sam waits for him to say something. It takes longer than he expected but Dean is soon on his feet, yelling and waving his mug around so much that coffee is sploshing over the side and onto the worn and dull lino of Bobby’s kitchen.

   ‘Are you fucking kidding me?! You want me to kiss a fucking angel?! A _dude_ angel?!?!?!’ Dean’s face has gone a strange colour and for a moment Sam is concerned for his brother’s heart.

   ‘It’s the only way to cure the curse, Dean,’ Sam says as Dean slams down his mug and heads towards the door, inventive expletives being muttered as he stomps off.

  ‘Dean, he could die!’ Sam shouts in desperation. He feels a stab of guilt for pulling that on Dean but this was not the time for more of Dean’s macho denial crap. ‘You want that? Just ‘cause you can’t get over yourself or that stupid homophobic crap Dad used to spew!’

   Dean spins around, nostrils flared, glaring in a way that would have made Sam fearful; if it wasn’t for the hint of sadness and hurt in his eyes.

   ‘Look, I know how much he means to you, I know that you care about hi-‘

   ‘Fuck you, Sam!’ Dean roars, fists balled up at his sides, the sadness in his eyes immediately consumed by rage. Dean storms out, slamming the front door so loud that Sam hears Bobby yelling at him to quit trying to destroy his house. Soon after, Sam hears the Impala tearing out of the salvage yard, tires squealing as Dean runs away. Bobby wheels himself in, greeting Sam with a ‘Sounds like that went real well.’

   Sam sighs heavily and then closes his eyes.

   ‘Cas? Castiel? It’s Sam. We, uh, we need you down here, please.’

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I'm sorry for the delay in getting chapters up and thank you so much for reading ^_^


	7. Chapter Seven

Cas hesitates when Sam prays to him. He did not seem frightened or in pain so it was not essential that Castiel go to him. Except that they may have found a cure for this damned curse. And he wanted it gone. Dear Father, he wanted it gone. The way Dean had looked at him, the naked disgust in his eyes as Castiel made a fool of himself once again; Cas felt sick whenever he thought of it. He’d been so angry and Cas knew he had done the wrong thing, the not human thing, but Dean had been dreaming of _him._

   As much as he’d rather stay where he was, a hauntingly beautiful forest somewhere in Norway surrounded by curious deer, Cas did not wish to be cowardly so he shoved away his fear and sadness and went to Sam, unsurprised to find him still in Bobby’s living room.

   ‘Hey Cas,’ Sam says, sounding relieved once Cas has manifested in the room. Cas nods at him, not quite sure what to say, and looks to Bobby who also nods and then wheels himself out of the room.

   ‘Did you find a cure?’ he asks Sam, a little desperately, just wanting this to be over with.

   ‘…yes.’

   Cas tilts his head, confused.

   ‘You don’t sound sure.’

   Sam sighs as he runs his hand through his hair, snorting out a small laugh that Cas doesn’t quite understand.

   As Sam explains what is needed for the ritual, and kindly glosses over the worst of Dean’s reaction with ‘Dean has some misgivings about the process…’ Cas finds himself feeling even worse. A small, rebellious pulse of anger passes through him at Father’s decision to make emotions so desperately unpleasant. Cas almost longs for the cool, smooth glass wall of purpose and conviction that used to stand between him and this mess of feelings. Being human really is terrible sometimes.

   ‘Cas?’ he hears Sam say, as if not for the first time, and Cas blinks, coming back to himself.

   ‘My apologies, what did you say?’ He looks at Sam, giving him his attention.

   ‘I was saying that, although Dean is being a stubborn asshat, try not to worry too much. He’ll do it; he doesn’t want you to be hurt.’

   Cas looks down at the floor and nods though he doesn’t believe Sam’s words. Sam sighs again and gestures to one of the chairs nearby. Cas tilts his head at Sam but sits nonetheless, knowing how humans like to rest by sitting when they can. Sam plops himself down too, looking huge and yet somehow small in the rickety old chair, and rests his hands, palms down, on his knees.

   ‘I’m going to call him now and make him come back,’ Sam says in that no-nonsense voice, the one that Cas hears when Sam has plans and intentions, ‘and then we will do this ritual and you both will be fine.’

   Cas decides to just look down at his hands and pray to Father that all this will be over soon and he can get back to fighting this war like he was built to, instead of imploding because of confounding human emotions he was never supposed to experience. Cas hears the sounds of Sam poking the buttons on his phone and tries to ignore the way his stomach flips sickeningly at the thought of seeing Dean, or hearing him say he won’t come back.

   ‘Answer the phone,’ Sam growls into the device when it rings then goes to voicemail twice in a row, making Cas feel even worse. Bobby comes back into the room just as Sam is trying again.

   ‘Not answering?’ he asks as he makes his way behind his desk, chair squeaking a little as it moves. Cas fidgets, moving his fingers together in different patterns, trying to calm the tummy flips as they happen again.

   ‘No. You wanna give it a try?’ Sam says, sounding annoyed as he hangs up on the call.

   ‘Don’t know what good it’ll do,’ Bobby replies but he picks up the receiver to his telephone and dials Dean’s number from memory. Cas hears the ringing and then the sound of Dean’s voicemail message beginning. Sam hung up at this point but Bobby just waits until the message is through then says ‘If you don’t get your ass back to my house pronto, I’ll whoop ya, boy, I mean it. Stop being stupid.’

   Cas looks up as Bobby hangs up the phone and is gratified when Bobby flashes a rare smile his way.

   ‘That should do it,’ Sam laughs as he tosses his phone aside then clasps his hands behind his head and reclines. Bobby does the same and the two men grin at each other. Cas isn’t quite sure why they seem so happy but lets himself be comforted by it anyway.

                                                            *   *   *

   Deciding not to go get drunk just because it was ten in the morning was one of the stupidest decisions Dean has ever made, and there’s some stiff competition, because now he can't blame being deep into a bottle of whiskey as a reason not to go back and face things, and Dean really didn’t want to go back.

   After listening to the message Bobby left him, Dean groans and puts his head in his hands, coffee untouched on the table in front of him. He’d driven until he came across some roadside café that was mostly empty and didn’t smell too bad. Dean had sat down and ordered the coffee that was slowly going cold in front of him and then stared out of the window. He’d rather be slicing up demons or firing rockets at Lucifer or whatever else would work as a great distraction from the mess he was in but here he was, having perhaps overreacted a bit. Broken sleep, especially sleep broken by an argument with the dude Dean was sort of obsessed with, made him especially cranky so when Sam told him about this motherfucking ritual, his flight instincts kicked in before he could really think and then he was tearing out of there, the wheels on Baby screeching in a way that made him apologise to the car with a hand-kiss to the dash.

   Last night, after Cas had said his final piece and left, Dean had stood still for about ten seconds, face so red his head started sweating, before stomping to the bathroom for the angriest piss of his life, boner well and truly killed by the argument. Then he stomped back into the bedroom and threw himself on the bed, vaguely aware of muttering furiously to himself as he tossed and turned, the bed creaking like it was about to fall apart. As the minutes and then hours ticked by, Dean’s protective cloak of anger had slowly cooled, letting some of the unwelcome truth seep back in. Dean knew he would not be this angry with Cas or himself if his feelings for the guy hadn’t reached oh fuck territory. That first time, the stupid thing Cas said about his ass and the ensuing stream of consciousness babble that followed on from it, had ignited such hope inside him that, when it was inevitably snuffed out by reality, Dean found he couldn't ignore the truth any longer. Dean Winchester was in love with an angel, a _dude_ angel, who doesn’t understand how phones work and looks at Dean with such intensity that it makes him feel seen and has the most entrancing blue eyes he has ever seen and, oh fuck, here come those feelings again.

   Dean shakes his head and takes a sip of the terrible cup of coffee, focusing on the bitter flavour on his tongue as he pushes aside his own selfish and pointless desires. These feelings, which are unwanted distractions from the real shit on his plate and would only lead to suffering and pain, needed to be locked away and ignored because Dean didn’t get to have that sort of thing, especially not with a being so beyond him that even Dean found his attachment to the angel laughable. After all, all that mattered was saving people and winning this war. His thoughts and feelings didn’t mean shit anyway. They needed Cas to help them; Dean had to get over it.

With a herculean effort that costs him dearly, Dean locks away his heart, squares his shoulders, downs the awful lukewarm coffee, throws some change on the counter and heads out.

                                                         *   *   *

   Sam’s in the kitchen making soup and sandwiches while Bobby pours over various ancient tomes and swears at his old computer when Cas hears the familiar purr of the Impala’s well maintained engine approaching from down the road. Cas swallows as his stomach does that terrible flipping thing again and quietly says ‘I believe Dean is approaching.’

   Sam and Bobby both look at him and then at the same window before jumping into action. Sam takes the pot off the heat and throws another plate on top of the sandwiches. Bobby opens a couple of drawers in his desk and produces an antique looking goblet and a copper knife with etchings carved into its blade. Sam clears a table and lays various implements out according to Bobby’s instructions and is just finishing when all three of them hear the Impala arrive and slow to a stop outside. When he hears the car door slam, Cas stands up, mostly because he wants to run screaming, and waits for Dean to come inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for not giving up on me and this story and for your lovely comments. They act as a nice way to kick me in the arse and get me writing again ^_^


	8. Chapter Eight

Dean gives himself a quick moment to breathe and gather himself before he plasters a cheeky smile on his face and exits his car with more swagger than usual. He walks through Bobby’s front door and turns to face the room. Bobby is sitting in his chair near a table with magical implements on. Under his cap, Bobby’s brow is furrowed as he reads the book in his hands. Sam is painting some smaller symbols inside a larger one on the floor, his stupid hair hanging in his face like it always does, and he has to shake his head so he can see Dean.

   ‘Hey Sammy, need me to get my clippers?’ Dean asks cheerfully, smiling wider when Sam narrows his eyes at him. In the corner of the room, Cas is standing and looking at him like a puppy that’s been kicked too many times. Dean feels his smile threaten to falter and charges on regardless. ‘We ready to get this show on the road? I’m sure Cas will be glad when this is over, right buddy?’

   Cas looks a bit surprised that Dean is speaking to him and his voice is cautious and quiet when he replies ‘Yes Dean.’

   Dean nods his head a bit too much as Bobby starts explaining the ritual in unnecessary detail, clapping his hands together when he pauses for breath and interjecting ‘Great! Let’s do this then we can get back to annihilating the devil.’

   He chooses to ignore the look Sam gives him and instead nonchalantly fiddles with something on the table until Bobby slaps his hand away.

   ‘Last thing we need is you breaking something,’ Bobby states gruffly, briefly giving Dean a particularly grumpy stink-eye before going back to his book. Dean suppresses the urge to pout and shoves his hands in his pockets.

   ‘Ok, Dean, you need to stand here,’ Sam says, pointing to a certain area of the symbol on the floor, ‘and Cas, you need to be there.’

   Dean quickly walks over to where Sam pointed and tries to maintain his cheerful, disaffected air as Cas also walks over and stands in front of him, looking awkward as ever in his stupid rumpled trench coat and ridiculous fucked-up tie and his not-at-all-cute-actually-really-annoying mad crop of hair. Stupid gorgeous angel.

   Cas looks at him with wide blue eyes and simply says ‘I can’t wait to kiss you, Dean.’

  

                                               *   *   *

   When Dean walks in, Cas almost winces when he sees that terrible strained smile on his face, hating to be the cause of such obvious discomfort. Cas does not move or say anything, not wanting to do any further damage to their friendship than he already has.

   Sam is crouched down and painting the symbols necessary for the ritual onto the worn and pitted wood of Bobby’s floor. Before he started, without being prompted by Bobby, Sam filled a bucket with warm water and some clean but overly strong smelling liquid, put the tentacle end of a mop into it then put it in the corner of the room. Cas caught the small appreciative smile Bobby gave Sam and it gave him a warm feeling which Cas could only compare to seeing Sam and Dean playfully fight together, like they have so many times before.

   ‘Hey Sammy, need me to get my clippers?’ Dean says in a cheerful tone that belies the tension in his body and the conflicted look in his eyes. When he glances at Cas, he tries to look apologetic and approachable but, given the way Dean’s smile wobbles, Cas thinks he did not manage it very well.

   ‘We ready to get this show on the road? I’m sure Cas will be glad when this is over, right buddy?’ Cas feels his eyes widen when Dean addresses him directly, surprised that Dean is speaking to him at all, let alone in such friendly tones.

   ‘Yes Dean,’ he replies in what he hopes is a calm voice and not as timid as he thinks it sounds.

   Bobby begins explaining the ritual to Dean, having already told Cas what is involved, and Dean nods his head a lot more than seems normal and then interrupts Bobby as soon as he can. Dean so obviously wants this to be over with and Castiel can relate. When Dean starts to fiddle with Bobby’s carefully laid out implements, Bobby forces his hand away and chastises him. Cas glances at Sam and sees his understanding as Dean awkwardly moves away from Bobby’s ritual table. When he looks over at Cas, he sees sympathy without pity in Sam’s hazel eyes and Cas feels a modicum of comfort.

   Sam steps forward and points to an area of the symbol and tells Dean to stand there. Then he points to the opposite area and instructs Cas to move there. Cas does as asked, heart rate rising as he and Dean move closer to each other. Dean is still doing that smile though it lessens and turns into more of a frown when he looks at Cas, his eyes so green and striated with the gold of his soul, every one of the freckles on his face making Cas’s lips itch to kiss them, his lips so soft and deep pink, hypnotising in their beauty.

   ‘I can’t wait to kiss you, Dean.’

                                                  *   *   *

   Sam makes a noise but other than that, the room is silent. Dean resolutely stares at the floor and tries his hardest not to show any reaction at all. Cas is completely still in front of him and Dean doesn’t want to see his face.

   ‘You ok to do the incantation, Sam?’ Bobby asks, breaking the silence like a pro, as he starts to put bits of this and that into the metal ritual bowl they’d used a hundred times before. If Dean could bear to lift his head, he’s sure he’d be able to identify the ingredients Bobby is using or the words Sam has begun to chant but his lower back is sweating, his face hurts from trying to appear unaffected and he can’t do anything except his best impression of a statue.  

   Sam moves closer and his voice rises as he repeats the invocation or whatever it is they’re doing. Dean hears sounds of Bobby mixing things and Sam’s giant footsteps as he walks around them. Cas still hasn’t moved and Dean doesn’t know what to feel or do. It’s not like he can tell Cas that he’s madly in love with him and having a huge panic about it like how he panics about anything that involves feelings and vulnerability that doesn’t involve monsters and guts. The whole thing is ridiculous no matter what Dean feels.

   _Justthecursejsutthecursedon’thopenohopenohope…_

   ‘Dean, your hand,’ Bobby murmurs so as not to disrupt Sam. Dean quickly obliges and holds out his hand. He barely flinches when Bobby uses the ceremonial dagger to slice his palm, the pain a welcome distraction to the cluster fuck that is his mind.

   ‘Wipe some blood on Cas’s lips,’ Bobby continues as Sam’s voice gets even louder.

   _Oh fucking fuckery fuck. Shit and balls. Oh god, his lips, his fucking lips I can’t…_

   With as much false calm as he can muster, Dean gulps, looks up and quickly rubs his palm against Cas’s lips, trying to ignore how his skin immediately begins to tingle and the adorable way Cas’s eyes cross as he looks down at Dean’s hand on his lips. The atmosphere in the room changes, becoming charged like how the air feels right before a huge electrical storm, and it takes Dean a moment to realise it’s because of the magic of the ritual. He takes his hand away and gulps again, now openly staring at his blood on Cas’s plump, pink, gorgeous lips. Sam’s voice gets louder, Dean’s hair stands on end, Bobby’s poking him in the side and Cas is gazing at him with an intensely complicated expression.

   ‘Dean! Kiss him!’ Bobby hisses and shoves him forward so hard that Dean’s lips bounce off Cas’s and he has to grab hold of Cas’s trench coat which apparently he wasn’t expecting because Cas makes a sound like a seagull being surprised and topples over, knocking Dean right on his ass and landing on top of him in an ungainly and heavy pile of angel and bad clothes. Looming above them with a face that screams done, Bobby looks down at them and shakes his head and Sam’s goofy face appears, obviously trying not to laugh.

   There’s a gust of wind and then Cas is pulling Dean to his feet, mumbling embarrassed apologies with the sweetest pink-tipped ears, standing out against the beautiful darkness of his hair that has little tufts and peaks that curl into random tiny spirals and stick out here and there like the guy has never even heard of a comb and still manages to be the most amazing creature Dean has ever met.

   ‘I think you’re beautiful, Cas.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You like, yes? I hope so :)


	9. Chapter Nine

Dean slapped his hand over his mouth so hard that it felt like a punch. Cas was staring at him with wide eyes, Sam looked half-concerned and half like he was about to piss his pants laughing. Bobby just had his head in his hands, the book he’d been holding abandoned in his lap.  
‘You do?’ Cas breathed, so quietly that Dean would not have heard it if it wasn’t for his close proximity. Reflexively Dean shook his head, though it was a complete lie. The crestfallen look on Cas’s face was like another hit to the gut and Dean couldn’t take it. Too much; too confusing.  
Dean spun around, hand still clamped over his mouth like he was about to puke, and made for the door, hoping that, for once, Sam would keep his huge nose out of it and not try to-  
‘Dean!’ Sam shouted as Dean tried to escape. ‘Don’t you fucking dare leave right now!’  
Fucking brother.  
Dean turned back and opened his mouth to shout at Sam to mind his own goddamn business for once in his oversized life but his traitorous eyes panned over to Cas who was looking at him with a wide-eyed, inscrutable expression, his eyes so blue in this light, and what came out instead, muffled by his hand, was ‘I think about you all the time, Cas.’  
Somewhere nearby, Bobby sighed heavily while Dean made a mortifying noise that almost rivalled this new confession and ran the fuck out of Bobby’s house, ignoring Sam who was shouting and following him.  
‘Dean! Dean!’  
Dean doesn’t stop until he gets as far across the yard from the house as possible, his stomach churning as the whole world seems to tilt. He comes to a stop behind an old broken down truck, slams his back against it and sinks to the floor, hand still covering his traitorous mouth. Sam stomps round the vehicle and looms over Dean, staring down at him with an exasperated expression.  
‘Are you ok?’ he says in a way that almost sounds like an accusation. Dean keeps his hand firmly over his mouth and just nods.  
‘Right, well we need to go back and fix this so…’ Sam says, hands on his hips. Dean shakes his head, staring ahead, his stomach sinking into his feet. There is no way he is going back in there and saying any more shit like that to Cas, especially not in front of Bobby!  
‘I know it’s embarrassing but you have to.’  
Dean shakes his head again, briefly glancing at Sam’s face to glare at him, then resumes his thousand yard stare.  
‘This is not up for debate! It’s a dangerous curse. Cas is only ok because he’s an angel!’ Sam gesticulates wildly with his stupid huge hands. Dean starts grinding his teeth.  
‘Get. Up.’  
‘Fuck off,’ Dean growls from behind his hand.  
‘Don’t be a dick, I’m trying to help you,’ Sam scowls at him, stretching out to his true ridiculous height, blocking the sun like some annoying tree that won’t shut up. Dean snorts, shakes his head so hard that he hurts his neck and then angrily gets to his feet, hand falling away from his mouth to ball into a tight fist by his side.  
‘Trying to help me? Trying to help me?! Good fucking job!’ Dean yells, heart hammering with rage. Sam droops a bit, at least having the decency to a look a little apologetic.  
‘I know and I’m sorry. Bobby and I researched this thing thoroughly so I don’t know what went wrong.’ Sam runs his fingers through his hair while Dean fumes silently. ‘We’ll go back to the books and see where we went wrong but, Dean, you can’t just leave. We’re going to need you here so we can fix this.’ Sam looks at him and he just laughs mirthlessly.  
‘Yeah. Guess you’ll need Cas to stay too,’ Dean murmurs, hands relaxing a bit with his resignation.  
‘Yeah. Look, maybe if you and Cas talk-‘  
‘No.’ Dean cuts him off definitively. ‘That’s not an option.’  
‘But I think if-‘  
‘I said no,’ Dean all but snarls, eyes narrowing when he glares at Sam. Sam puts his hands up and steps back.  
‘Ok, ok, just come back inside and we’ll fix it, ok?’  
‘I’ll go down to the panic room.’ Dean shrugs and stares at the dirt beneath his feet. ‘It’s as good a place as any.’  
‘Do you really think that’s necessa-‘  
‘Sam, I swear to fucking god…’  
Sam sighs dramatically but gives in, much to Dean’s relief. He claps Dean on the shoulder before heading off towards the house. Dean stays behind the truck and tries to think of anything except secrets and angels.  
* * *  
Sam came in not long after Cas heard Dean yelling from the far end of the salvage yard, obscured by an old rusty red truck that looked like it would never run again. Sam paused for a moment before walking towards him, looking contrite in a way that made Cas uneasy.  
‘Dean’s going to go hang out downstairs for a bit while we figure out what’s wrong,’ he says a little awkwardly, leaving ‘because he does not wish to be anywhere near you’ unspoken but hanging in the air like a dense fog on a hillside. Cas just nods and turns away from the door, not wanting to see Dean walk by with his eyes averted.  
‘I’ll go through this again,’ Bobby says as Cas hears the rustling of papers and pages. ‘Maybe I screwed up the translation somehow.’  
‘Pray to me if I am required,’ Cas says, wings already gearing up to take flight.  
‘No, Cas, we really need you here,’ Sam says behind him. ‘The sooner we take care of this, the sooner it’ll all be over.’  
Cas tries not to wince at Sam’s choice of words. He’s sure that whatever may have been between Dean and himself has been splintered and broken by this horrible series of events. Dean has gone from smiling and laughing, despite the terrible odds they all face, to not even being able to be in the same room as Castiel. And it hurt.  
‘Sam’s right, Cas. We can’t risk you leaving and not being able to come back in time,’ Bobby adds. Cas’s shoulders slump but he nods his head, not wanting to speak anymore.  
‘Ok good. Let’s try this again.’  
Sam sits down with another musty book, eyes sharply focussed. Bobby occasionally grumbles to himself as he goes through his papers again. Cas sits in a chair that faces away from the doorway and tries not to flinch when he hears Dean’s quick footsteps, various doors shutting behind him as he rushes to be as far away from Cas as he can be right now. Cas closes his eyes and tries to ignore the awfulness that’s churning inside him.  
* * *  
Dean marches through the front door and right on down to the panic room, not saying anything to anyone as he goes, head down, ignoring the aching tug in his chest at walking past a room with Cas in it and not seeing him. He shuts the heavy metal door and goes right over to the cot, flomping face down on it and shutting his eyes, trying to convince himself that of course he can sleep now, no problem, no matter what stupid images of Cas his brain shows him, endlessly parading every second they’ve shared behind his eyes.  
I think you’re beautiful, Cas.  
Dean groans and rolls onto his back, crossing his arms over his eyes as though to shield him from the humiliation. As if this whole thing hasn’t been fucking hard enough as it is, now Dean’s spewing his guts uncontrollably and making an ass of himself in front of his family and his friend.  
It’s true though.  
‘Fuck off,’ he tells himself, trying to make that too-honest voice in his head shut up. It didn’t matter if it was true, it was stupid. Dean’s not going to get a happy-ever-after, let alone one that involves a dude angel and a white picket fence.  
What if he feels the same?  
Dean snorts and shakes his head. Yeah, some multidimensional, incredibly powerful, older than Dean can imagine, supernatural being is going to want Dean. And even if he did, it was a distraction that Dean couldn’t afford. Not with the world hanging in the balance, Sam still reeling from Ruby’s cruel manipulations, Bobby consigned to a wheelchair and Lucifer hot on their heels. It was madness.  
But you love him.  
‘Shut up,’ Dean growls again, jaw clenching hard enough to hurt. Through the ceiling he hears Sam and Bobby speaking. Dean finds himself straining to hear Cas and is surprised by the jolt of fear that pulses through him when he can’t hear his deep voice at all.  
You made him leave.  
Dean shakes his head again, more at the fear than the thought. It’s probably for the best that Cas isn’t here; that way Dean can’t confess anything else to him.  
What if he doesn’t come back?  
This time the bolt of fear makes Dean sit up with a gasp, hand clutching at his chest.  
‘What the fuck?’ he whispers, rubbing his hand on his chest as though that can soothe the unpleasant feelings lodged inside his lungs. That tugging sensation Dean felt earlier when he dodged Cas gets stronger, like there was a thread trying to pull him up and onto his feet.  
Everyone leaves you, even Cas.  
Dean’s breath hitches and sweat breaks out onto his forehead as panic flashes bright and hard inside him. He swings his legs over the side of the cot and sits up, pressing his face into his hands as the urge to go upstairs intensifies, wanting him to go and spill his guts to Cas some more. The more he fights, the worse it gets until Dean is yanking on his hair to distract himself from the pulling in his chest and the throbbing in his head.  
You don’t deserve someone like him.  
Dean shakes his head at the rising tide of fear and self-loathing building up inside him.  
You don’t deserve anyone.  
‘Shut the fuck up!!’ Dean growls, leaping up like he can fight the voice inside his head, like it’s not the truth. His feet move without his permission, trying to march him out the room and up to Cas so he can humiliate himself some more. Dean stops and stomps his feet, hands clenched tightly as he fights himself.  
You’ll die alone.  
‘Shut up!’  
Like you deserve. Murderer.  
‘Fucking. Shut. Up!’ Dean snarls, grabbing his hair with both hands and pulling, needing pain to ground himself before he completely loses control, tears welling up that he can’t handle.  
You’ll fail Cas.  
And Sam.  
And Bobby.  
Just like you failed your parents.  
Dean shakes all over, grinding his teeth together as he tries to block out the voice, the feelings, the awful hole inside that’s getting wider and deeper.  
Daddy’s boy.  
Faggot.  
‘SHUT UP!!’  
Dean howls, turning to the wall and punching it so hard he can feel a couple of bones crack, blood dripping from the split skin on his knuckles. He does it again and again, the pain the only distraction from that laughing voice telling him how worthless he is, hitting and hitting until his vision is swimming, until there are hands on him, shaking him, and another voice yelling in his ear.  
‘Dean!’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been edited as of 2nd July 2017 so I'd suggest a reread if you read it before that (sorry about that!). Also, for some reason AO3 will not let me retain my format so sorry the chapter is squished.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read chapter 9 before 2nd July 2017 then please be advised that it has been edited so you may want to reread it before reading this one. Thanks :)
> 
> PS Formatting isn't carrying over from my Word document at the moment. I'll see if I can change that at a later date.

‘Dean!’ Sam shouts as he holds him back, trying to stop him from hurting himself. ‘Dean, stop!’  
Dean just growls and tries to shake him off, his eyes clenched shut, jaw so tight that Sam can hear his teeth grinding together.  
‘What’s going on down there?!’ Bobby hollers from the top of the stairs.  
‘The curse, I think it’s really starting to hit him! He’s hurt!’ Sam shouts up, arms like a vice around Dean, not letting him go until he stops freaking out, heart pounding with fear.  
‘Don’t deserve him, don’t deserve it,’ Dean growls, still struggling against Sam like he doesn’t hear him. ‘Nothing, nothing inside. Empty and dead!'  
‘Dean! Come on, man, stop,’ Sam tells him, wanting him to calm down. ‘It’s the curse, just fight it. You’ll be ok.’  
Dean shakes his head and then lunges, trying to hit the wall with his good hand. Sam just about manages to hold him back, straining with the effort.  
‘Piece of shit! Don’t deserve anything. Nothing!’ Dean yells again, sweat pouring off him.  
‘That’s not true! Dean, that’s not true. Please stop’ Sam tells him desperately before looking up at the ceiling and yelling ‘CAS! Get back here!’  
Like his batteries have been yanked out, Dean goes dead-still. The slow turn of his head would have been comical but he looks at Sam with the wide scared eyes of a young boy, and says, in broken tones ‘He left.’  
Sam shakes his head and opens his mouth to say ‘He’s just getting an ingredient for us, he’ll be back soon’ but Dean cuts him off with a sound Sam never wants to hear again. Dean’s eyes well with tears and he begins to howl like a wounded animal, crying as its life ebbs away, sounding for all the world like the embodiment of heartbreak. He falls to his knees, all the fight going out of him as he makes that dreadful noise. Sam’s mouth falls open and his vision blurs at the sight of his strong older brother in so much pain.  
‘It’s ok, he’ll be back soon, it’s ok, Cas is coming’ Sam tells him in a rush, wanting Dean to calm down and be ok. He kneels down opposite Dean and puts his arms around him, desperate to make his brother stop making that sound.  
‘Sam! Can you get him up here? I can’t… goddammit!’ Sam hears Bobby yelling, knowing how scared and frustrated he must be.  
‘I don’t know!’ Sam yells back, his hands itching to cover his ears as Dean continues to howl and sob, clutching himself like he’s trying to keep his guts inside.  
‘Dean!’  
As quickly as it started, Dean goes silent except for the heaving of his chest as Cas appears out of nowhere, face panicked and frightened. He drops to his knees hard enough to bruise as Dean lifts his head to look at him. All that’s left of that terrible sound is the ringing in Sam’s ears and the tears in Dean’s eyes.  
‘Cas…’ Dean chokes out, eyes bright with feeling. Cas reaches for him, nodding his head as he presses his hands to Dean’s face in a desperately human gesture. And Dean, he just falls into him, Cas quickly moving his arms to catch him and hold him as Dean trembles and gently sniffles.  
‘You left, I thought… you left’ Dean mumbles, eyes falling closed. Cas shakes his head.  
‘I was coming right back, I promise.’ Cas holds him tighter. Sam breathes a huge sigh of relief, feeling a fond warmth in his chest for their angel friend and for Dean, who looks so young in Cas's arms. Knowing that this should be a private moment, Sam leaves them alone and hopes that they might find their way to some peace.  
* * *  
All Dean can do for a while is just be held by Cas, too exhausted to fight it. The comforting warmth around him, the smell of Cas, just being close to him made Dean feel calmer, that awful pulling and tearing gone for now, that vicious voice in his head gone silent. His hand hurts like a motherfucker and he feels like he’s just done ten rounds with a werewolf but, at this moment, in Cas’s arms, Dean feels at peace.  
‘Dean?’ comes Cas’s gravelly voice, soft from concern. ‘Are you ok?’ Dean nods then laughs quietly.  
‘My hand hurts but I’m good.’  
Cas moves one arm to touch his hand but Dean shakes his head.  
‘Don’t waste your grace on me, man. It’ll heal.’  
Cas ignores him and heals it anyway. Dean wants to protest but the warm glow feels good and he doesn’t want to stop it. Once it’s done, Cas puts his arm back around Dean, almost cradling him.  
‘Healing you is never a waste, Dean,’ Cas says in a gentle scolding tone.  
‘Even when it’s self-inflicted?’ Dean asks, half trying to keep it light hearted even as his body thrums from Cas’s close proximity.  
‘Especially,’ Cas replies. Dean feels that harsh twang in his heart again at Cas’s sincerity.  
‘I like being in your arms, Cas.’  
Oh fucking hell. Dean feels himself going red, like he’s suddenly developed sunburn and poison ivy simultaneously. He all but jumps up, stretching unnecessarily as he tries his hardest to seem unaffected by this stupid shit. There’s a rustle of fabric as Cas stands up too.  
‘Sorry about all this, buddy,’ Dean says uselessly, needing to say something to fill the awkward silence. ‘Fucking curses, man. I hate them.’  
‘I can’t say that I am too enamoured with them either,’ Cas rumbles behind him. Dean smiles at that, turning to look at Cas, ignoring the tugging feeling. Cas looks at him and gives him a rare small smile, right corner of his mouth lifting. Dean feels a twang in his heart and has to bite his lip, the urge to be close to Cas getting stronger.  
‘Sam says it was some kind of demi god so I'm guessing it's pretty strong. That's why... you know.'  
Dean rubs the back of his neck with his hand, not sure what to say or do next. Cas looks just as awkward, ill-fitting trench coat hanging off him.  
‘Perhaps I should see if Sam and Bobby require my assistance,’ Cas says, eyes focused on the toes of Dean’s boots.  
‘Yeah maybe,’ Dean replies in an off hand way, as if his heart rate didn't immediately double in speed at the thought of Cas leaving. Cas looks at him curiously, apparently not convinced, and moves closer.  
‘Will that bother you?’ he asks as Dean tries to calm himself, heart fluttering uncomfortably.  
‘N-no…no of course not. I’m fine,’ Dean stammers, hands curling, digging his nails into his palms. Cas tilts his head.  
‘If you want me to stay, you only have to ask,’ Cas says, eyes filled with concern and something Dean doesn’t know how to define. Dean opens his mouth to repeat that he’d be fine but instead says ‘I dream about you, Cas.’  
‘You do?’ he asks as Dean has an internal melt down, mind immediately going back to the dream from last night. How it had felt to be skin-on-skin with Cas, his strong hands touching Dean everywhere, their bodies rolling together, moaning and shuddering…  
‘I-uh, you know, c-curse,’ Dean stutters, not able to look away from the devastating blue of Cas’s eyes, reflexively sucking his lip into his mouth. Cas follows the motion with his eyes and licks his lower lip, making it look even more inviting.  
'I think of you all the time,’ Cas whispers in a way that makes it sound like it hurts him to admit and Dean’s heart does that terrible stop-start that makes his vision swim.  
'I want to kiss you, Cas.’


End file.
